Brave New Fight
by Insert Witty Name Here
Summary: Sylar and Claire find common ground, and a common enemy, after sharing a traumatic experience. WIP. Takes place after Brave New World. Sylaire!
1. Chapter 1

Takes place after Brave New World

* * *

Chapter One: The Escape

The only thing Claire could think of when she woke up was how cold she was. The air was stale and damp and a chill seeped down into her bones until her teeth began to chatter incessantly. Her whole body felt like it weighed so much more than it really did. After a few moments, she managed to open her eyes. The walls were made of the same dark wood paneling you only saw in the basements of old houses. There was medical equipment pushed up against the walls. The same equipment you might find in a morgue.

Then...she remembered.

Claire closed her eyes, trying to wish herself somewhere else. Trying to forget the man in the welder's mask who held her there. He never showed his face. Never spoke or responded to her pleas. Her sense of time had completely vanished since being taken. Not a single window, clock, or sign of outside life resided anywhere. As far as she could tell, she'd been trapped there for a few weeks. Maybe a month?

The drugs he pumped through her body were strong enough to take down in elephant and strong enough to slow down her ability. Sometimes she would wake up in her cell, still covered in nearly healed cuts and bruises. She never woke up while he was dissecting her, but rarely she would come to while still in the dark paneled room, the same one she was in now, surrounded by the carnage left over from whatever he was trying to accomplish. This guy made Sylar look like the tooth fairy.

A wave of nausea hit her when her mind finally dusted off the last remaining cobwebs. Sylar was trapped there too. She just knew it. It started not long after she'd been taken. The man carted her off to her cell, a small room with no windows, no ventilation. Just a small mattress in the corner. There was no need for a bathroom. Claire hadn't eaten anything, nor was she given anything. Her body would continue to heal and replenish itself as much as it needed to for Claire to stay alive. She'd curled herself into the corner while she slept off the remaining drugs in her system, only to be startled awake by terrifying screams coming from down the hall that reverberated through the floor and up her spine. Claire had heard his carnal yell too many times to mistake him for someone else. She'd covered her ears and choked down sobs. Whatever drug the man in the mask had given her, he wasn't giving to Sylar.

And that's how she began counting days. Because every night their captor would lock her up in the cell, and every night the screams woke her up.

She shouldn't have jumped off that ferris wheel. At first, it wasn't so bad. Of course, the media had a field day with it. Videos of her fall popped up all over the internet. However, not long after her debut, the general populace decided it was an elaborate hoax. That is was all a ploy to get the media's attention for a quick fifteen minutes of fame. Then there were the weirdo stalkers who tried to sneak their way onto the campus. The school had to hire extra security and it made getting on and off campus a pain. Claire was unofficially persona on grata at school, as if her social status wasn't bad enough before hand.

A couple months had gone by and Claire no longer had to look over her shoulder every waking minute. In hindsight, she knew that she shouldn't have let down her guard. The last thing she could remember before being taken was leaving the quiet solitude of the library to walk to her dorm room. Then...

Blank. She couldn't remember anything beyond that. Claire had to admit that it would have been easy to snatch a special such as herself. She had no offensive abilities. Save for a mean right hook.

A tingling sensation ran through her arms and she gasped at the sensation. She looked up and saw that the IV bag attached to her arm was empty. She frowned and glanced at the open door. Was this a trick?

She willed her arms to move and miraculously, but sluggishly, they lifted off the cold metal table. Her legs, however, were still numb. The most she could manage was to wiggle her toes. She looked close around her, trying to find something metal, and preferably sharp. This could be her only chance to escape. A silver bowl sat on the roll away try next to her, but nothing else. Hoping there might be a scalpel sitting in it, she half dragged her arm to it, tipping the bowl and its contents towards her. Claire nearly gagged at the sight of blood and tissue that spilled out, along with what appeared to be a human heart.

Her heart, she realized.

That's what he was doing to them. They were just live stock, their organs probably being sold off to the highest bidder. She tried to control her erratic breathing. Tried to concentrate on anything other than the damp stench of her own blood.

*thud * She held her breath.

*clank * Something down the hall broke and snapped. She tried to move her legs again, but they still weren't cooperating. Quick, determined footsteps echoed down the hall, coming straight for the room she was in. Panic began to set in just as a dark figure stepped into the doorway. The person stepped into the room, and the bare light bulb hanging over Claire gave out just enough light for her to make out Sylar's face.

"S-Sy..." Her still-chattering teeth wouldn't let her finish his name. The man looked nothing like he did when she last saw him when Peter and the reformed serial killer helped her get away from the storm of cameras and reporters surrounding her. He looked the same way she felt. Dark circles lay beneath his eyes. His pale skin had taken on a grayish tone and his hair hung limply around his face. If she tried, Claire could probably count his ribs one by one the way they protruded from his thinning body. He darted over to her side to pull out the IV needle stuck in her arm, not quite looking at her. There were splatters of blood stained across one side of the scrub bottoms he was wearing.

"Can you walk?" Sylar asked her, his voice hoarse and deep. Claire shook her head. He slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back. She lifted her weak arms, holding onto his neck as tight as she could manage. It wasn't until she felt his skin against her that she realized she was completely naked. She didn't give it a second thought. This could be their only chance to escape. And if the man had managed to kidnap and hold someone as strong as Sylar hostage, then their chances of escape were slim. Modesty was not an option at the moment.

Sylar carried her out of the room and down the hall. He flung a door open with his powers to reveal wooden steps leading up into a sunlit kitchen.

"Close your eyes, Claire." His gravely voice reverberated from his chest and into hers. She didn't ask why. Didn't have to. The smell of blood permeated her senses once again. The only glimpse she had before closing her eyes and burying her face into his neck was a spray of blood coating the bright yellow wall of the kitchen. Similar to the same pattern it made on Sylar's pants.

He carried her through the kitchen and set her down on a worn out couch in what looked like a make shift living room. Her legs were slowly gaining the feeling back in them, just enough that she managed to sit up. Sylar darted up another set of stairs. She wrapped her arms around her torso, trying to ward off the pervasive chill and cover her exposed body. When he came back down the stairs, she saw that Sylar was wearing a pair of ill-fitting jeans and a t-shirt. He handed her a red flannel shirt and some sweat pants that, thankfully, had a draw string on them. He still wouldn't quite look at her and she realized he was trying to be courteous. He turned quickly around and began shuffling through the papers and empty take-out containers that littered the surfaces. Claire managed slide the pants on and was still trying to button the shirt when she heard keys jingling.

She managed to finished dressing herself while Sylar grabbed random stacks of documents. Claire followed him outside on shaky legs. There was a late model silver car in the gravel driveway and the house was surrounded by a wall of dense trees and underbrush.

Sylar opened the passenger door for her, his eyes darting wildly around, on the lookout for any other threat.

Claire didn't bother with a seat belt while they flew down the gravel road. She turned the heat as high as it would go and curled up the in the passenger seat.

"We'll find somewhere to stay for the night. Then...we'll figure out what to do from there."

Claire didn't bother replying or even nodding her head. Anything was better than what they had just escaped from. Her eyelids were getting heavy and her body was relaxing under the blast of the heat. Her last thought before she fell asleep was that she would never wake up in hell again.

* * *

TBC - Chapter 2: In Hiding

Wrote this shortly after the finale, but it's been collecting dust on my computer. Thoughts? Suggestions?


	2. In Hiding

Chapter 2: In Hiding

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the afternoon or that night. Claire still felt sedated and things seemed to happen in a blur around her. Sylar had managed to get some cash, clean clothes, and a hotel room.

A _nice_ hotel room. She wandered into one of the bathrooms, closed the door behind her and sighed. Her sense of time was still out of whack. It had been dark when she woke up in the car. She peeled off the flannel shirt and sweat pants. The scar down her chest had finally healed, save for a faint pink line. Claire was pretty sure she would have that scar forever. There was no telling how many times she had been cut open. There was still dried blood caked to her chest and neck. She stood under spray of water until she had scrubbed away every bit of dirt and blood.

There was a bag sitting just inside the door that hadn't been there before she got in the shower. There were plenty of clothes for her to choose from. It looked like Sylar had grabbed anything that looked like her size. She settled on the pajama outfit sitting in the bottom of the bag. It was the kind that was wrapped in ribbon, with the pants, shorts and a tank top that all matched. She pulled it out of the bag, put on the pants and tank top, and turned to leave the bathroom before she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. While she looked a lot better than she did a few hours before, there were still dark circles under her eyes and her face wasn't as round as it normally was. Her hips weren't as wide either and the few curves that she used to have were nonexistent.

Deciding she'd seen enough, she meandered around the suite. It looked like it had at least four bedrooms, a couple bathrooms, a kitchen and a living room. She picked a bedroom and melted into the mattress. Despite the fact that she had slept most of the day, she still felt exhausted. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep. Only this time, she didn't fall into the peaceful slumber that she had earlier in the day. Her dreams were full of darkness and the bitter cold steel underneath her. Screams pierced the air and Claire woke up to find her knees pulled to her chest and her hands over her ears. The light and warmth of the room helped to brush the nightmare away. Her heart was hammering against her chest and she put a hand over it trying to calm herself, only to hear the screaming again.

Her breath caught in her throat and she listened intently. It was muffled and far away and not as amplified as it had been in her dream. It took her a minute to realize that it was Sylar in the other room. Without hesitating, she stumbled out of bed and followed the sound. He was in a room on the opposite side of the suite. The door was cracked open and she pushed against it gently. Sylar was laying on top of the covers on his side with his hands clinched in tight fists.

His skin seemed to jump and twitch. A ghost of the real, physical pain he'd suffered. Claire sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand gingerly on Sylar's shoulder. His reaction was immediate. His eyes snapped open and he grabbed onto her wrist and sat up quickly, his eyes bloodshot and wild. She could tell he couldn't really see her, so she placed her free hand on his other shoulder.

"Sylar?" She whispered.

Her voice seemed to break him free from his nightmare. His eyes cleared and he struggled to even his breathing. Not knowing what else to do and feeling a bit out of sorts herself, Claire wrapped her arms around his torso. She didn't really know why she did it. Maybe to comfort him. Maybe to comfort herself. He'd suffered more pain than he'd ever inflicted on anyone else. She was beginning to feel awkward about her act of compassion until she felt his hands on her back. Claire wondered if she should be more worried about hugging the man who had caused her so much pain or that it felt good to do so.

"Did he..." Sylar trailed off, leaving the question unfinished. Claire pulled back, looking at Sylar with her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. Sylar sighed.

"Did he do the same things to you?"

Claire swallowed thickly. She leaned back and pointed to the faint scar that started just beneath her neck.

"You mean scooping out our organs?" She didn't mean to say it with so much venom, but it came out that way. Sylar clenched his fists and breathed hard through his nose. She realized what he thinking and corrected him.

"He drugged me." She said quickly. "I was never awake when he cut me open." Saying it out loud made it feel more real than it had before. It made Claire nauseous and she tried to push thoughts of it away, but Sylar was going to make that difficult.

He let out a breath.

"I didn't know you were there until a few nights ago." Sylar said with pain in his voice. It took him a moment to make eye contact with her. His eyes gleamed with unshed tears and she felt the sting of her own sorrow threatening to spill over.

"I thought I was being punished." He took in a gulp of air. "If I had known you were there, I would've have gotten us out of there sooner."

Claire felt her chin quiver and she nodded.

"He took you not long after he took me." Claire tried hard not to let her voice crack, but it did. All the emotion she'd felt while trapped there, and successfully suppressing since their escape, came crashing in on her all at once.

"I heard you." She explained.

Sylar nodded and pulled her close and she wrapped her arms around him once more and buried her face into his shoulder. She felt him rub circles on her back. They sat like that for a while. Claire finally felt her racing heart calm down for the first time since she had woken up.

"I owe you big time, Claire." He whispered. "The things I did to you-" She heard him gulp and knew that he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. Peter tried to explain to her what he and Sylar had gone through when they were stuck in Parkman's basement. All the grief and turmoil over the destruction he'd caused in people's lives. The numerous times Sylar had tried to kill himself, and the times when Peter was so angry he tried to do it for him. She couldn't stand any more sorrow or pain for the night and decided she'd had enough.

"I think being trapped with only Peter for company for five imaginary years is punishment enough." She quipped.

Sylar let out a chuckle. The sound and feel of it against her chest made her heart feel lighter and it felt like a weight had been lifted.

Not that all the problems they had with each other were gone.

Maybe they were just a bit smaller, she thought.

* * *

She slept in his bed that night. They'd put space between them when they went to sleep, but when Claire woke up, their arms and legs were tangled together and somehow Claire ended up on the opposite side of the bed that she'd started out on. There was light coming in through the curtains. She didn't try to move or untangle herself. It felt too good to be woken up by honest-to-God sunlight in a warm bed. She could feel Sylar's chest press into her back with each breath he took.

She briefly wondered what her dad would say about this and then quickly pushed those thoughts aside. That was the last thing she wanted to think about. What she really wanted was some food. There was a menu laying next to the phone on the nightstand. She was deciding whether it was worth leaving the comfort of the bed for some pancakes when a voice made her jump.

"We've got to ditch the car today." Sylar said. Claire startled and put her hand to her heart. Even with her healing ability, she was pretty sure a heart attack was going to put her down for good any day now. She shot him a half-hearted glare.

"Sorry." He muttered.

"Order breakfast and we'll call it even."

Claire left the comfort of the bed to go to the bathroom and do damage control on the major bed head she had going on. She picked out a pair of jeans and a pink sweater from the bag of clothes. They were a size too big, but she was just grateful to even have decent clothes in the first place.

She heard room service knock on the door and she was nearly skipping with the thought of finally eating something. But when she opened the door, Claire was greeted by the end of a shot gun. The deafening blast met her ear before she could do anything.

Claire sat up with a gasp. Her legs were still tangled up with Sylar's. It was dark and the room was chilly without the sun shining in through the window. She felt Sylar sit up beside her.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head and covered her face with her hands. She heard herself gasping, but it felt like she couldn't get any oxygen. The dream had felt so real. She swore she could still hear the blast of the gun in her ears and feel the blow to her chest. Something her grandmother said months before suddenly came to the forefront of her mind. She'd been curious and asked her about her ability. Claire had asked her how she could tell the difference between regular dreams and the ones that foretold the future.

"_They are not dreams, Claire._" Her grandmother said, her voice quiet and harsh. "_They are living __nightmares_."

Angela Petrelli didn't offer any thing else and Claire knew well enough not to ask any more questions.

"Claire?"

Sylar's voice brought her back to reality. She could breathe again, but the relief was short-lived as she realized the little bit of peace they had in the past few hours was about to come to an end.

"We have to get of here." Her voice cracked and she stared Sylar straight in the eye, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation.

"It wasn't just a dream, was it?" He asked. Claire didn't answer. Didn't have to. They both knew what this meant. Claire was afraid of her new power. But she also knew that it gave them a strong advantage.

* * *

Along with clothes and supplies, Sylar had also bought them two huge backpacks. The plan was to drive the car outside of the city. She suspected Sylar had planned to do this whether they were found or not. Claire was surprised to learn that they had been staying in Oklahoma City. They were so close to her Texas home. She had to remind herself that there wasn't anyone there waiting for her. Her mother was happy in Costa Verde and her father moved wherever the action took him. She still felt homesick for her old town, though.

They pulled onto a dirt road about an hour outside the city and hid the car in the underbrush at the edge of the woods. Sylar formed a ball of electricity and fried all the electronics in it. If they had been found through any kind of GPS in the car, this would give them a head start on their captors. Whoever they were.

Claire pulled the straps to make sure the backpack was fitted tightly. She kicked the gravel beneath her feet and waited while Sylar did the same. She began to wonder if she would ever have a peaceful life. She'd given up on having a normal one. She didn't even want a 'normal' life anymore. 'Normal' was boring, she'd decided. However, she did crave peace. Every time she found some, it was ripped out of her hands. Although, she did have to admit that she was partly to blame some times. This was definitely one of those times. If she hadn't jumped off that stupid ferris wheel, none of this would have happened. She'd just been so mad at the world, she thought she would go crazy if she didn't do something to change it.

"Ready?"

When Claire looked up, the reality of the situation finally sunk in. Here she was, putting all her trust into a man who was responsible for the death of her birth parents. A man who had sliced her head open and killed countless others. But now she didn't really see that monster any more. Even before they'd been taken, she could see it as plain as day. She knew there were plenty of people who would argue otherwise, but she found she could never doubt Peter. He'd spent the most time with Sylar. He was the sole witness to his redemption. Perhaps even the reason for it, although she knew he would deny it. Taking it all into perspective, she knew there was something she needed to tell him.

Claire opened and closed her mouth a few times. She was trying to find the right words, but realized there was really only one way to say it.

"Thank you."

A look of confusion crossed Sylar's face. "For what?" He asked.

Claire sighed.

"For coming back for me." She shuddered and pushed back the memories of that dark basement. "For not ditching me when we got out."

She lost her nerve and couldn't look him in the eye anymore, instead drawing her eyes back down to her feet. Sylar closed the distance between them and pushed her chin up so that their eyes met again. She could just make out his face in the faint moonlight.

"Claire, even if I were still..." He paused.

"Evil?" Claire supplied. She saw him roll his eyes at the simple term.

"Even if I were still..._evil, _I would have done the same thing."

Claire didn't doubt it for a second. She didn't have a good reason for it, but the words seemed to ring true for her.

"Well, it still needed to be said." Claire shrugged. She leaned up on her toes and gave him a peck on the cheek. She saw his face go red and had to hide a smirk.

"Thank you." She whispered. Sylar swallowed audibly.

"You're welcome."

Suddenly all the tension and heavy emotions lifted, leaving them light-hearted and full of hope that they would get things in order again. Claire wrapped her arms around his neck and he held on tightly to her waist and soon she felt the ground leave her feet and the wind roaring past her ears. She didn't even know where he was taking them.

She just knew that in that moment, she trusted him more than anyone else in the world.

* * *

TBC - Chapter 3: Green, Green Grass of Home

Thanks for all the awesome reviews! I'm a slow writer and tend to fret over every sentence, but I'll try to get the next chapter out sooner. Constructive criticism is welcomed!


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